The Reach
by itsbloomagic
Summary: When Faith stumbles upon a strange old book, she convinces her closest friend to help her investigate it. Little do they know, the book holds the key to a centuries-old secret. Set during the events of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. **Very Uber; rated M to be safe. Willow/Tara.
1. Prologue: The Markarth Affair

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my newest experiment!

I know the summary was a little vague... I'll explain a little more with the next chapter. For now, see what you think of this.

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><p>"I don't believe it!"<p>

A dark-haired woman glanced over the top of the outdated crop report she was pretending to read in the safety of the shadows of Understone Keep. Her dark eyes peered around the atrium from their slightly sunken sockets. She spotted the man in question: a tall, thin High Elf in a dark blue set of mage's robes. He was gesturing wildly with his arms at the captain of the guard who was walking by his side, their hurried footsteps echoing off of the stone walls around them.

"I thought you had this place guarded with lock and key!" the elf continued, sounding more outraged with every syllable. The woman in the shadows smirked to herself.

"We did, Calcelmo!" the guard captain barked gruffly. "It was locked up tight with two of Markarth's finest at each door. What more did you want?"

"Preposterous," Calcelmo sneered as the pair rounded the corner into the excavation site. "If those are Markarth's finest, I'm going to need to talk to the Jarl about getting better guards."

The woman glanced around warily, seeing that the guards were standing around looking bored, much like they had been when she had entered an hour earlier. Seeing that no one was any the wiser, she rolled up her trusty old crop report and tucked it into the inside pocket of her traveling cloak. She straightened the dark gray material over her leather riding pants and cloth shirt, sliding the hood back to reveal all of her dark brown hair. With a final glance around, the woman hiked her pack upon her shoulder and stepped out of the shadows.

The guards did not even flinch as she strode past them at a brisk pace, as if she had just finished a spot of business with the Jarl. Just a few more steps to the main door of the Keep and she would be well on her way to a healthy pocket full of gold.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE ARTEFACTS MISSING?"

The dark-haired woman bit back a chuckle at the sound of Calcelmo giving the guard captain a what for. Sometimes, the best part of a job was the show she got if she stuck around long enough.

Finally, her hand was on the door and she pushed it open, stepping out into the midday sun on the steps of the city of Markarth in the province of Skyrim. The woman took a deep breath of the fresh, mountain air and promptly set off down the stone steps of the city.

She felt good. Fantastic, even.

In all of her time with the Thieves' Guild, she had never been given such a high-profile job. In fact, it wasn't often that _anyone_ got any really juicy work, what with the decline of the Guild in recent years. However, she had been gifted with the honor of breaking into a high-security area and lifting a few precious objects from within. And how many times a year, on average, could she say she broke into a heavily-secured Dwemer excavation site and walked right back out without a scratch?

Not many, that was for sure.

With a spring in her step, the woman crossed over the little river that ran through the city and passed by the door to an abandoned house. As soon as she caught sight of the city gates, which to her represented freedom, she paused to think.

The morning had gone so well, she thought, that she might as well reward herself with an afternoon of good ale. It was the thing to do in Skyrim after all. In fact, you didn't even need a reason to indulge most of the time. Today, she definitely had a reason and the coin to back it up.

However, she contemplated as she turned toward the Silver-Blood Inn, an inn was a risky place to take a pack full of jewels and potentially-rare artefacts that you just lifted from the Keep. Especially an inn that was run by the most influential family in the Reach. Who knew what kind of trouble she could run into there?

The woman disregarded her worry with a smirk. She had made it out of the Keep in one piece; a few good tankards of ale would not hurt her chances of getting out of Markarth very much.

And so, with her decision made and the spring in her step restored, the dark-haired woman made her way into the Silver-Blood Inn. The heavy doors swung easily on their hinges and she strode in with a swarthy step.

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" she exclaimed loudly, silencing all the chatter in the inn. Every work-weathered face turned to stare at her critically as she shot one of her winning, dimpled grins to the barkeep.

"I'll take a tankard of your finest mead," she began, swinging a leg over one of the barstools, "And a another for every man in here today."

The barkeep raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Are ye sure ye have the coin for all that, lass?"

Her grin only grew wider as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Are you sure you have the mead for my coin?"

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><p>Several hours and several rounds of mead later, the dark-haired woman had drawn quite a crowd. Excepting a few patrons that preferred to sit in the shadows with their hoods drawn, every person in the inn was riveted on the mysterious woman as she regaled them with stories of her escapades. She commanded their attention from her perch atop the bar.<p>

"So what 'appened then?!" a red-faced Nord slurred loudly.

"Calm down, you troll! Let a girl set up the suspense!" the woman replied, her speech only slightly less-slurred than his. The rest of her audience chuckled at the Nord's impatience.

"As I was sayin'," the woman began, tossing back the last of the mead in her tankard, "The East Empire Company guards aren't the smartest lot I've ever dealt with, but they're certainly more formidable than most."

A few men mumbled their agreement while she paused to signal the barkeep for a refill. The weary man frowned, but poured another tankard of mead as he spotted her coin purse jingling merrily as she moved.

He glanced toward the doors of the inn as they swung open and closed quickly, a cloaked figure striding quietly to the bar. The person sat at a stool without acknowledging him and turned their attention to the woman with the flowing dark hair.

"So, it was the dead of night and I was crouched in th' shadows of the docks tryin' to plot my way around the guards. One was an Orc—seven feet tall, easy, and half as wide—and the other was some plucky Imperial with barely enough meat on him to last the first month of winter. You know the kind." Her audience laughed. She leaned forward dramatically. "I knew I could probably trip the Imperial and send him into the water before he knew what was happenin'. But, his friend would need a more... Delicate approach."

The cloaked figured seemed to tense as the woman spoke, glancing warily between the woman and the door of the inn. Ever-aware, the barkeep began to glance to the door as well, anxious of the cloaked figure.

"As quietly as I could," the dark-haired woman continued, "I popped the nails on one of the boards of the dock and propped it _just so_," she gestured emphatically, "that it would trip the Imperial up. Then, I just had to wait."

Suddenly, the doors of the inn burst open and seven of Markarth's armored guards piled in, swords drawn. Silence fell over the patrons once more, many of them burying their faces into their tankards to try to stay out of whatever was going to happen. The barkeep frowned and opened his mouth to greet the guards.

"Ev'ning, gents!" the dark-haired woman howled from atop the bar, grinning goofily. "Have ya come for a round or two?"

The barkeep, instantly regretting his decision to keep the mead flowing to this obviously unruly woman, quickly jumped into the conversation before the aforementioned woman could muck it all up.

"Harald," he said, addressing the guard at the lead of the group. The guard in question removed his helmet and stowed it under his arm. "What can I do for ye this evening?"

"It seems that we have an escaped fugitive in our humble town," Harald announced gruffly. The barkeep struggled not to glance at the suddenly-stiff, dark-hared woman still seated atop his bar. Harald glanced at the guard to his right and the group of guards split up and began to pace between the tables, looking closely at each and every patron.

The dark-haired woman lifted her tankard to her lips and drank the rest of her mead down in one large swallow. The stone cup made a resounding thud as she set it heavily on the bar. Harald the guard locked his steely gaze upon her.

"That so?" she asked rakishly, her voice suddenly a lot clearer than the barkeep expected, considering the sheer amount of mead she had put away that afternoon. She calmly rested each of her booted feet on one of the barstools in front of her and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees contemplatively. "And you think they'd come to a dreary old pub to hide out?"

The barkeep frowned again.

"Beg pardon, but my inn is not-"

"We've received orders to search every public building in Markarth, ma'am," Harald ground out, cutting off the barkeep.

"I'd like to see those orders, if you don't mind," she announced brightly. The barkeep paled at her words, fighting the urge to cover her mouth with his hand.

"That's not really necessary, Harald," he said, desperately trying to keep his voice level. He definitely couldn't afford a skirmish with the guards this week.

Harald the guard narrowed his eyes at the woman and took a heavy step forward. His fellow guards paused in their bored-looking perusal of the patrons, glancing back and forth between their leader and the talkative woman.

"And just who might you be to demand to see the orders handed to me by the Jarl himself?"

"I'm just a concerned citizen," the woman replied simply. "It's not as if the Keep was burglarized or anything."

Harald carefully studied the dark-haired woman on the bar. Every patron and guard watched one or the other, waiting for some kind of action to break out. Finally, Harald made a move, pointing his sword at the woman and nodding to one of his fellow guards.

"Bjorn, arrest this woman," he ordered. The dark-haired woman arched an eyebrow as the barkeep slammed his hands down onto the bar.

"What in Talos' name is going on here?" he demanded.

Bjorn approached the bar, sliding a pair of wrist irons out of a pouch on his belt. He stopped in front of the stools on which the woman rested her feet, quietly ordering her to stand. She merely stared at the burly Nord, eyebrow frozen in place.

"Seriously?" she asked, glancing around in disbelief. "What did I do?"

With a quickness that the barkeep could hardly believe, the cloaked figure that he had almost forgotten about shot off of their barstool and landed a solid fist on the pressure point that was just barely visible between the neck of Bjorn's breastplate and helmet. The large Nord dropped like a stone and all of his guard comrades sprung into action before he even hit the floor.

Harald himself tossed his helmet to the floor and charged the dark-haired woman. Once he was in range, she hooked the toe of each boot under the seat of the barstools they had been resting on and kicked them both at him. He threw his arms up to shield his face as the wooden stools shattered on impact, grunting at the blow. Before he could recover, the woman braced her arms on the bar and pushed off, planting her feet firmly into his breastplate, toppling them both to the floor and rendering Harald unconscious. The cloaked figure quickly helped the woman up as the five remaining guards approached them.

"What was that?" the dark haired woman hissed at the cloaked figure, cracking her neck from side to side as she picked up Harald's sword and dropped into a fighting stance.

"You were taking too long," the cloaked figure muttered in a high-pitched, somewhat gravelly voice. The pair shuffled together into a rough fighting formation. "And that bit about the Keep was a little much, don't you think?"

The dark-haired woman scoffed as the first guard reached her, ducking his sword swing and blocking the next.

"Just because you're wicked jumpy doesn't mean I can't have a little fun!" the dark haired woman ground out as she deflected another blow from the guard with Harald's sword. She followed up with a striking blow to the his helmet, sending him sprawling to the dusty floor as she rounded on the next guard.

Meanwhile, the cloaked figure had produced a small axe from somewhere within her robes and quickly blocked the two swords slicing toward her. With a grunt of effort, she pushed them both back and swung the axe backward, knocking one of the guards back with the butt of the weapon. The cloaked figure swept the legs from under another guard as she stood back-to-back with the dark-haired woman. With what looked like practiced ease, the pair fought off the last three guards, knocking each of them into unconsciousness.

When all the guards had been dispatched, the dark-haired woman dropped Harald's sword near his slumbering body and pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes.

"That was a fair workout," she said with a dimpled grin.

"Unless you want another, I suggest we make our escape," the cloaked figure muttered, pulling her hood down to reveal the face of a cat with blonde-colored fur and bright yellow-green eyes; a Khajiit. "Sooner would be better."

The dark-haired woman scoffed again as she surveyed the damage.

The Khajiit turned to the barkeep with what passed for a sympathetic smile curling on her feline lips. "I'm sorry for the disruption."

"I'm not!" the dark-haired woman chimed in cheerily, extending a hand to the stunned barkeep. "Name's Faith. My Khajiit friend here goes by Buffy. Thanks for letting me lay low here for a while."

The barkeep shook her hand weakly, trying to take in all that the dark-haired woman had said. He glanced silently at the unconscious guards on the floor and the dumbstruck patrons of his inn. The woman called Faith quickly searched the pouches on each guard's belt, taking a few things here and there.

"Ye know that the Silver-Bloods will be hearing about this?" he warned weakly, trying his best not to panic. The Silver-Bloods were the most influential family in the reach; there was no telling what they would do to him once they found out what had happened in his inn.

"Sure," Faith said, hiking her pack onto her shoulder. "But they're probably the least of our worries."

With another dimpled grin, Faith tossed a coin purse on the bar as she and the Khajiit made their way to the door and out of the inn. The barkeep stared after their retreating forms with his mouth agape.

Hours later, after being ruthlessly questioned by the guard captain and the Jarl's steward and assessing the damages to his inn, the barkeep pulled the coin purse out of his pocket and emptied its contents onto the bar. He cried out in shock at the pile of coins and precious stones that spilled out onto the aged wood.

"My word!"


	2. Family

A/N: Hello all!

As you may have noticed, this fic is a little something different. This is a BTVS/Skyrim crossover. It was inspired by the (very NC-17) uber-fic "Hellebore" by Chris Cook. You can find it at the Through the Looking Glass story archive (uberwillowtara stories). It will help to have a little bit of familiarity with the province of Skyrim, though you can find links to a map and images of some of the places described in my profile.

I have "recently" been on a Willow/Tara kick (as in "they've been my entire life for the last three years"). So, this is a work of femmeslash fanfiction and if that is not your cup of tea, please brew yourself something else. I'm not sure how long this will be or how often it will be updated, but I hope you enjoy the ride.

Thanks for tuning in!

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><p>The normally solemn city of Windhelm was abuzz with activity.<p>

A new trading vessel had just arrived at the city docks, rumored to be carrying all sorts of exotic wares. The shopkeepers, nearly salivating with the idea of this fresh wealth, were busy cleaning their shops and putting their best merchandise on display. They all hoped to strike deals that would be talked about for years to come. At the docks themselves, a small army of man, elf, and beast moved around the large ship, fastening sails, hoisting boxes, and preparing cargo to move. A crowd of spectators lined the stone walls of the city, craning their necks to watch every individual piece of action.

Amidst the relative chaos, a gentle-looking blonde woman stood perfectly still and silent at the end of an empty stone dock. The cool wind blew her hair off of her shoulders as she stared out to the Sea of Ghosts. She held no interest for the spectators of the new ship and thoroughly enjoyed the space that they gave her. It was rare that she got moments to herself as the farm in which she resided was always a hive of activity. She was thankful to have an excuse to get away for a while, even if it was only to the city to watch a ship dock.

She took a deep breath of the chilly, salty air and closed her eyes, tuning out the sounds of the docks for a moment. The sound of the water moving filled her ears as a small wave crashed against the dock she was standing on and splashed water against the bottom of her skirt. She smiled to herself.

"M-miss Tara!"

The woman started, her clear blue eyes snapping open and she turned her head to find the person that had called her name. She searched for a moment before landing on a tall, lanky young man with scraggly light-brown hair scurrying carefully through the crowd surrounding the ship. When she met his eyes, he made his way over to her, his nerves evident in his gait.

"Miss Tara," he repeated, bowing his head slightly as he stopped a few feet from her.

"I've told you before, Roeth," the woman said softly, pulling his attention back to her. "Just call me Tara."

The young man's cheeks and ears reddened in embarrassment as he nodded quickly.

Roeth was one of the newest employees of Chillstream Manor, the farm just outside Windhelm at which Tara worked. Tara doubted that the young man had ever even seen snow until he had arrived at the farm, but he seemed to be adjusting well. At barely twenty years old, he was eager to work hard and see more of the world. He was a nice young man, if a little more formal than Tara was used to.

"O-of course, Mi-uh... Tara," Roeth stuttered.

"Thank you." She smiled kindly at him. "Now, how can I help you?"

Roeth held up a folded and sealed piece of parchment that looked to Tara as if it had seen better days.

"Th-this letter arrived for you this morning by messenger. I was unable to find you to give it to you earlier."

"Well, you found me eventually," Tara joked. Roeth merely blushed again as he glanced warily around the docks.

"It was with m-much searching," he muttered, holding out the letter. Tara turned fully from the edge of the docks and took the letter from the young man.

"Thank you, Roeth."

The young man nodded again and stepped back as Tara glanced at the address printed on the front of the letter in a familiar, messy scrawl.

_Lady Tara_

_Chillstream Manor_

_Windhelm_

She slipped her finger under the seal of the letter and broke it, careful not to tear the paper. She was about to fold it open when she noticed that Roeth was still standing there; she had expected him to scarper off like he usually did.

"Was there something else?" she asked carefully. He blushed again.

"Ald was concerned when I couldn't find you this morning. I will have to tell him where I found you..." Roeth trailed off nervously.

"And?" Tara sighed, knowing where the conversation was quickly headed.

"And you know that he will not approve of you spending time with these..." he lowered his voice dramatically, "Creatures."

Tara arched an eyebrow at the young man as he continued to glance around as if he were being watched.

On the docks around them, several Argonians and a few elves bustled about, now beginning to offload the wares from the large ship. The lizard-men stood on the gangplanks while passing crates back and forth, using their scaly tails to help them balance on the uncertain surface. One particular Argonian was marking off items on a list as he walked the deck of the ship. The few elves in the area were rolling lengths of rope and checking sails.

If there was one thing that she did not enjoy about her life at Chillstream Manor, it was that her employers were not very accepting of the elves and beastfolk living in Windhelm. Ald would rather see the Grey Quarter, the city's dark elf community, walled off and segregated from the rest. The man was also quite outspoken about his distaste for the Argonians that called the city home. Tara could argue all she wanted with him, but she knew that they would never see eye to eye.

"These _creatures_ are people just like the rest of us," Tara scolded gently, pulling Roeth's attention back to her with her warning tone. "And where I choose to spend my time off in the city is none of Ald's concern. I am a grown woman."

Roeth flushed even harder.

"O-of course, Miss Tara."

Tara was about to open her mouth to correct him again when he turned on his heel and walked off quickly, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. She sighed heavily as she watched him go. It was only after Roeth had disappeared through the city gates that Tara turned her attention back to the letter he had come to deliver. She unfolded the battered paper and read the brief note.

_Meet me at the usual place. We have a lot to talk about._

Tara's eyebrow quirked once more.

"Short and sweet," she mused, casting her gaze once more on the sparkling water surrounding the dock. She took a deep breath of the cool, salty air, expelling it in a heavy sigh. The dingy scrap of paper crumpled easily in her fist.

"She must have something important to tell me."

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><p>Most homes in the province of Skyrim were compact with single bedrooms on the lower floors and in basements to maximize the heat from the fireplaces. Farms were slightly larger, generally with several rooms for family and employees, as well as large kitchens and storage areas. Chillstream Manor, however, was a different story entirely.<p>

The gigantic, three-level manor sat just across the river from Windhelm, surrounded by lush fields of wheat, leeks, and lettuce. A few outbuildings housed stables, a mill, and a smith. It was almost large enough to be considered a small town. The manor itself boasted seven bedrooms on the upper levels along with a sprawling master suite and kitchen on the main level. It was large enough to house the owner and his family as well as the entire staff of hands that worked the farm.

Tara had been lucky enough to be hired by Ald and and his wife Lieske when she was fifteen years old. She happily left her place at the orphanage in Riften to help tend the crops and do other odd jobs around the farm. She took shifts with the other employees to sell their goods in the Windhelm market when there was little to do and often helped the hired cook prepare meals for their large group. A few times a year, she and Ald would take some of their goods to other cities to sell and trade with other merchants. And, as her decade of service made her the longest-employed hand at the farm, Tara had been given her own bedroom.

Tara tossed a billowy, white cotton shirt onto her bed next to several others of varying color. Standing with her hands on her hips, she carefully contemplated the assortment. After a few moments, she picked up the white shirt and its light blue cousin and folded them neatly into the travel bag laying open at the foot of her bed.

A quiet knock sounded from the doorway and Tara glanced up to see the wife of her employer, Lieske, leaning against the door frame with a frown on her face.

"Going somewhere?" the elder Nord woman asked.

"Riften," Tara replied quietly, moving back to her wardrobe and replacing the shirts that she had decided against. "I'm leaving in the morning."

"I trust Ald is sending you with some goods to sell?" Lieske asked, though Tara was quite sure that she meant it more as a statement.

Tara glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow as she picked out a few pairs of riding pants.

"I wouldn't be going otherwise."

Lieske hummed in response. She watched quietly as Tara bustled around her room, picking items from various drawers and adding them to her still-open pack.

"You always over-pack when you visit Riften," Lieske observed after a few minutes, her tone very slightly accusatory. Tara stiffened and froze in the process of packing a small dagger, the weapon suspended briefly over the leather bag before she dropped it in. "It is only half a day's ride from here. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Tara sighed softly as she folded over the flap of her traveling pack and secured the straps to hold it closed. She lifted it briefly to test its weight, dropping it back onto her bed when she found it to be light enough.

She knew that she was entering dangerous territory with Lieske. Too much information could have her banned from Riften. Too little, and she would never be allowed to leave the farm again. She decided to try a more opaque approach.

"What is it that you came here for, Lieske?" Tara asked after several moments of tense silence. "I know that it wasn't just to interrogate me about my trip."

"I only meant to find out where you were going. You have to be careful-"

"I _was_ there at dinner," Tara said sarcastically, staring the older woman in the eye. "You don't have to reiterate what Ald said."

Lieske blushed, looking somewhat abashed.

"My husband only means to protect you and I agree with him. Whether that means spending less time at the docks with the _animals_ or taking fewer trips to Riften," Lieske chided.

Tara frowned, the ever-present irritation flaring within her. She didn't think the Argonians and Dunmer that worked at the docks to be animals at all. They were people just like the Nords of Windhelm and deserved to be treated with the same respect rather than insulted at every turn. And her trips to Riften had nothing to do with anything, she thought. So, she schooled her irritation into resolve as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Then I will tell you the same thing I told him when he barked his message of 'protection' at me in the main hall," Tara said. "Where and with whom I prefer to spend my time is, frankly, none of your business. I am twenty-five years old and _more_ than capable of taking care of myself. I don't need you or Ald peering over my shoulder at every turn."

"But Tara," Lieske began, her voice raising in decibel as she took a cautious step toward the younger woman, "Accepting these creatures as men... It is not the Stormcloak way. If you would like to continue living comfortably at this farm and earning a wage, then you would be wise to remember your Stormcloak values." Lieske tilted her chin defiantly. "We don't _have_ to allow you to stay."

Tara's blue eyes flashed in a moment of very uncharacteristic anger as she stared at Lieske; that had been a low blow. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she took hold of the strap of her traveling pack.

"I am no Imperialist," she stated calmly and firmly. "And I am _certainly_ no Stormcloak."

She flung her traveling pack over her shoulder and strode past her employer to the door, throwing it open as she spoke.

"I'll aim to be back next week. Don't wait up."

With that, Tara walked briskly from the room and through the halls of Ald and Lieske's manor. She reached the main entrance in a matter of minutes, earning several curious glances from the other hands as she went. Finally, she pushed through the heavy doors and stepped out into the cold evening air of Eastmarch.

It would be a simple matter to stay the night at the inn and set off for Riften in the morning as she had planned. But, if she was being honest with herself, the conversation with Lieske had gotten her very worked up.

Tara's calm nature usually allowed her a very long time before her anger would get the better of her. The encounter with Roeth that morning had irked her, but not terribly. It was worse at dinner earlier that evening when her employer, Ald, had admonished her for being anywhere near those "nasty creatures" in front of the entire staff of the farm. She had managed to keep her composure with some trouble. Lieske's contribution had been the last straw and Tara knew that she had to leave before things got ugly.

Tara was as Nord as they came: Tall, broad-shouldered, and fair-haired with eyes the color of the cloudless sky on a clear spring morning. She believed in hard work and good ale. Heavy swords, large axes, and tightly-strung bows were like child's play to her. She loved to sail when she had the chance and enjoyed picking away at her lute on occasion. And she preferred to worship _all_ the gods of her culture, regardless of the ban put in place by the Empire.

At the same time, she was also a student in the varied magical disciplines, studying spells that caught her eye and learning a few when she could. For fun, she sometimes brewed her own potions and sold them at the street market in Solitude. And she particularly enjoyed mingling with people from all over Tamriel; she was interested in learning about all races and held none to be more superior over the others.

It was those very non-Nord traits that made Tara's relationship with her "family" so strained. They would never tire of explaining to her how the elves, Khajiit, and Argonians of Skyrim were so beneath them. They never listened to reason, no matter how many times she gave them evidence that these people were clearly as strong as Nords in their own ways.

And, if their racial prejudices weren't enough, Ald's brother Vlad had helped to set off the war against the Empire that brewed all around them. One day, they had received news that the High King was dead in Solutide. Within a few weeks, Vlad burst through the city gates at Ulfric Stormcloak's back along with several hundred other men. They claimed to be the true Nords fighting for their culture and heritage against an Empire that only sought to unite _all_ cultures and heritages. Though Tara had no particular fondness for the Empire, she also disagreed with the causes that this new radical group fought for.

Just thinking about it now was making Tara more angry.

She did her best to remain as neutral as possible, but it was extremely difficult when she was surrounded by only one side of the war. Perhaps, she thought, it would be best to set off for Riften tonight. She would arrive much earlier than necessary for her meeting, but she could use that time to decompress a little bit. Perhaps, after her meeting, she could do a little bit of traveling; visit a few friends and disconnect from the war for a few weeks. She could spend some time in Whiterun, possibly make a name for herself there. If she did that, she would only have to return to Windhelm to retrieve her few possessions and move them to her new home.

Tara found herself nodding as she pondered, wondering why she had never had that idea before.

The answer was simple, she thought. She had never been angry enough.

She would set off for Riften tonight, she decided. Assuming she did not run into any trouble, she should make it by mid-morning the next day.

And then, maybe she could have a few tankards of good mead to blow off some steam.


	3. The Giant Mess

A/N: Here's another chapter of this experiment! I hope you enjoy.

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><p>Tara could have taken a horse.<p>

Riding was a good deal faster than walking and often a safer way to travel. A good horse could outrun most creatures. However, though it was more tedious, walking was the most common form of transportation. As easy as it would have been to take one of Ald's horses, she never was one to take the easy way out. And, if she was being honest with herself, Tara much preferred walking to riding.

So, Tara had set off on foot from Chillstream Manor, waving at the nighttime stable-hands as they tended the horses. She had made good time so far on the winding road. It swerved to and fro, over and through the snowy hills that she had called home for most of her adult life. She had traveled out of Windhelm before, of course. In fact, she had been to almost every major city in Skyrim at least once. But she had lived in Eastmarch for a long time and it would always hold a special place in her heart.

Regardless of how she felt about her "family."

Traveling at night was more difficult that journeying in the day mainly because of the lack of natural light with which to navigate. There was also increased danger from the nocturnal creatures of the wild, the ones that hunted their prey in complete silence and blended perfectly with the shadows. Though Tara had made the trip to Riften enough times to navigate without sunlight, she knew it would not be wise to let her guard down. She was a skilled swordswoman and a fair shot with a bow, but she preferred not to use them when she could avoid it.

Tara followed the paved road around another curve and glanced at the sky. Judging by the stars, she had been on the road for around three hours. If she walked a little farther, past the giant camp she knew to be a little way ahead, she would come upon the tiny village of Shor's Stone. It held a fantastic view of the mountains in the distance. She could stop there for a short rest and enjoy the scenery by moonlight.

A plan in mind, she quickened her pace, eager to rest her legs.

As she rounded another curve, she could just make out the light of a large bonfire fairly nearby. She had been closer to the giant camp than she anticipated, she thought, happy with her progress. Just then, a loud and low-timbred roar tore across the countryside, causing Tara to start with surprise. The trees around her shook with the sounds of the sleeping animals waking in fright and the ground rumbled very slightly under her feet.

By nature, giants were passive creatures. They warned travelers who trod on their territory by shaking their clubs and yelling, but they would not attack unless directly provoked in some way. Tara knew from experience that a roar of that magnitude combined with stomping hard enough to shake the ground could only mean one thing.

Someone had provoked the giants in the nearby camp.

Tara drew her longbow and nocked an arrow, breaking into a run as another ear-splitting roar rang through the trees. Whoever had woken the giant was in a lot of trouble if they did not know how to handle the creatures.

She thundered down the road, skidding into the camp within minutes. The giant-sized bonfire burned bright and hot and illuminated the surrounding area almost as well as the sun on a cloudy day. Even without the light from the fire, though, Tara would have been able to spot the enraged giant as he stomped around his campground. He swung his heavy club with abandon, taking out any trees or rocks that stood in his way as he pursued whatever it was that had provoked him.

Tara jogged closer, taking cover behind a rock formation as a thick tree branch flew at her, propelled by the giant's wildly-swinging club. When the danger had passed, she moved closer still. Finally, about fifty feet from the giant, she spotted the problem.

Three armored soldiers scrambled around the giant's feet, yelling at each other and desperately avoiding its swinging club and stomping feet. Occasionally, one of the larger soldiers would swing at the ankles of the beast with a sword or axe, but it only proved to further anger the giant as it roared and rampaged. The smallest of the soldiers scurried to and fro with his or her comrades, frantically pulling scrolls from their pockets. Tara judged that one to be a mage, though she doubted they had much skill based on the way they were fumbling around.

However, as Tara watched, the mage surprised her by throwing all of their scrolls to the ground and raising one hand, a fireball forming in their palm. A plume of fire soon stretched between the mage and the giant, engulfing the creature's legs in flaming heat. Tara sighed, knowing that fire would have little effect on the giant except to anger it more, and decided to join the fray.

She dropped into a crouch and ran around behind the giant, catching the attention of the soldiers as she went.

"Bandit!" one of them yelled, narrowly dodging a falling tree.

"That's just what we need now, isn't it?!" another shot back as he slashed at the giant's legs with his sword.

"I'm not a bandit!" Tara yelled, standing up straight. "Get him to turn back this way!" She planted her feet firmly and raised her bow.

The soldiers chose not to question her, instead aiming all of their attacks at the giant's left leg. The creature turned as they moved, trying to keep them in his sights. After a few moments, the creature was facing Tara and moving into another erratic swing with his club.

"HEY!" Tara screamed as she took aim, drawing her arrow back.

The giant turned his head directly toward her, his manic gaze locking on her quickly. Tara took a breath and released the arrow. It sailed through the air in a near-perfect arc, striking the giant in the forehead directly between the eyes.

All activity froze for a moment as the giant was stunned. Then, his eyes rolled in their sockets as he started to sway on the spot.

"Move!" Tara yelled, gesturing wildly at the three soldiers who stood dumbly in front of the creature. They snapped to attention at once, scrambling toward her and out of the way just in time. The giant suddenly collapsed to its knees as it drew its last breaths. Finally, the creature fell completely forward with a loud and earth-shaking thud.

Tara and the three soldiers stood together for several minutes, taking in their victory in silence. It was broken when the smallest of the soldiers, the mage, spun to face their comrades, reached up and tore the iron helmet from their head, tossing the armor to the ground.

"I _told_ you that attempting to loot a giant was a bad idea!"

Tara blinked.

Before her stood a fair-skinned Imperial woman with fiery red hair flowing over her shoulders. She stood with her gloved hands on her hips, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Her small stature apparently meant nothing as the two larger soldiers stepped carefully away from her.

"It was his idea!" one of them said, pulling off his own helmet to reveal his longish dark-brown hair and Imperial features, pointing at the third soldier. The third soldier removed his helmet as well, pushing his short white-blond hair off of his forehead.

Tara quickly glanced at the armor the three were wearing, paling when she saw the same uniform crest emblazoned on each shield.

Imperial Legion soldiers.

Tara was extremely grateful that she had chosen to wear her plain traveling clothes instead of the Stormcloak armor that Ald and Lieske would have insisted she wear. She would not have been well-prepared had the soldiers noticed and become hostile.

She thanked Talos for small miracles.

But, just in case, she discreetly stowed her bow.

"Well, excuse me for trying to have a little fun in this wasteland," the blond soldier muttered, stowing his helmet under one arm as he reached down to dig in a small pack on his belt.

The mage scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. The blond soldier extracted a small roll of paper from his belt pack, sticking one end between his lips. Tara watched, fascinated, as he produced a match, struck it, and lit the other end of the paper roll on fire. The flame died quickly, but the ember glowed red hot as the man inhaled deeply. He grasped the rolled paper between two fingers and pulled it from his mouth, exhaling a lungful of smoke at the dark-haired soldier.

"Watch it!" the young man yelped, jumping back and waving his hands to try and disperse the smoke. The blond laughed.

"It ain't going to kill you, Alexander," he chortled. "It's just some dried twill grass."

Tara smirked. Twill grass was a plant that many older, more refined Nords liked to crush up and burn in their wooden and corn-cob pipes. She had never seen anyone roll it in paper before. The look seemed to suit the cheeky Imperial.

"Are you two quite finished?" the mage asked petulantly. The dark-haired soldier, Alexander, merely scowled. The blond, however, smirked and held up both thumbs as he let out another cloud of smoke.

Tara glanced between the three for a moment, noticing that they seemed to have forgotten that she was there. She figured that now would be as good a time as any to announce herself.

"A-are any of you hurt?" she asked gently, surprising the soldiers as she had expected. Each one started and spun to face her, eyes wide.

"Bandit!" Alexander cried, reaching for his sword. Tara recognized that he had been the one to shout it before as she had entered the fight.

"I am not a bandit," Tara repeated, holding her hands up in surrender. "I was coming down the road when I heard the commotion."

"You made a pretty clean shot," the blond observed, tossing the still-burning stub of the paper roll to the ground. He then held out his hand. "Name's William."

"Tara," she replied, blushing as she shook his hand. "And it took a lot of practice to get that shot right."

Alexander stepped forward next, seeing that she was not hostile, and introduced himself. Tara shook his hand as well. Then, she glanced at the mage and met her eyes.

For a moment, though it seemed like an eternity, Tara felt as though she was caught in some kind of thrall. She stared into the eyes of the red-headed mage, guessing their color to be light brown or green in the moonlight, as she slowly forgot about the world around them. A warm, fluttering feeling blossomed in her belly, only adding to the strange situation. The mage, it seemed, was having similar reactions to the odd tension that had sparked between the two of them in that instant. Tara was the first to come to her senses, breaking the eye contact in favor of staring at the grass. She extended her hand to the mage. The redhead cleared her throat as she took it in a firm grip.

"I—Willow. I-is a name. My name. Willow is who I am," she babbled comically, her face flushing as she shook Tara's hand repeatedly.

Tara looked back up at the woman, quirking an eyebrow curiously at the strange tingle in her hand as they shook.

"Calm down, Red," William chirped, clapping Willow on the shoulder.

"Yeah, Wil," Alexander added. "She just saved our hides from a giant. You probably shouldn't confuse her with your odd speech patterns."

Willow merely flushed more deeply and finally released Tara's hand.

"I-it's alright," Tara said. "I u-understood."

William laughed and glanced between the two women.

"I guess you found a good one, then, Red."

If it was possible, Willow's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. The young woman turned away from the group and walked off toward the body of the giant. Tara watched her carefully.

"Where _did_ you learn to shoot like that?" Alexander asked, pulling her attention back to the other two soldiers. "We'd been attacking that thing for a good fifteen minutes and you just step in and plant an arrow between its eyes as easily as if you were breathing."

Tara blushed and looked to the ground modestly.

"I've been training for a while," she said. "And you learn the best ways to take care of certain creatures when you travel the same roads all the time."

"I see," William said, nodding along.

Tara watched out of the corner of her eye as Willow the mage started to gather her scrolls from the ground. When she had them all stowed in her pack, she moved toward the giant, presumably to investigate its body.

"Well, we're very grateful you came along," Alexander continued. "We might not have lasted much longer."

"You really shouldn't provoke giants," Tara muttered absently, eyes now focused on Willow who was prodding at different parts of the creature.

"We've learned that lesson, eh?" chuckled William. Alexander nodded and smiled. "I think I'd like to try again sometime, though. Just for the rush."

Alexander's smile disappeared.

Flashing the men a weak smile, Tara turned away from them and moved toward the giant's body. Willow the mage, who had produced a scrap of paper and coal pencil from somewhere on her belt, was walking around the creature and scribbling notes. Tara stopped next to the red-head, placing her hand flat on the flank of the giant.

"You really should have a better system for storing your scrolls," Tara said conversationally. Willow started, her concentration broken, and whipped around defensively. She sighed when she saw there was no danger.

"Yes, well," Willow grumbled, a tinge of agitation obvious in her tone of voice. "If it weren't for the Brainless Duo over there, I would have been better prepared. They insisted I wear the standard iron plate armor instead of my Battlemage robes for such a long journey. They underestimated how much I needed those extra pockets."

Tara watched as Willow went back to her notes, following the mage as she walked a slow circle around the giant's body.

"Where did you come from?" she asked.

"We're coming back from Winterhold. The Mage's College had some supplies set aside for me. Our station is just southwest of Riften."

The pair lapsed into silence as Willow examined the place where Tara's arrow had pierced the giant's forehead, the steel shaft still planted firmly in place. Willow gave the arrow a gentle tug and it pulled free fairly easily, a fact that seemed to surprise her.

"It's one of the few places on a giant's body where the bone and hide are thin enough for an arrow to penetrate fatally," Tara explained, preempting the mage's question. Willow glanced at her in surprise.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stared at Tara.

"Experience," Tara replied, blushing under the scrutiny. "Y-you can also sew a fairly good water skin from their hides if you're desperate. And cold magic usually does more damage than fire."

Willow nodded along, finally looking away from Tara to write furiously on her paper. Tara moved around to the giant's side, lifting the creature's loincloth and finding a large pouch of fabric attached underneath. She deftly untied it and dropped it to the ground, the fabric falling open. Inside the makeshift pack were a steel sword, a few tiny potion bottles, and a coin purse.

"Jackpot!" William yelled, startling the women as he and Alexander approached the loot. Tara smirked.

"Do you know a lot about the wildlife around here?" Willow asked suddenly, appearing at Tara's shoulder. Tara's smirk turned into a warm smile.

"Of course. I grew up in this area. And, I travel to Riften at least once every few months."

William and Alexander picked through the items from the giant's pouch, occasionally griping at one another.

"We've only been in Skyrim for a short time," Willow said, moving to stand in front of Tara and holding her gaze, her notes forgotten in her hand. Her smiling face was flushed again, but this time in excitement. "It would be great if you could tell me a few things about the creatures and plants of the area. I have plenty of unfinished journals and texts that I'm sure you could correct with a few words. And we could go on an expedition and make sketches of the flora and fauna. The mages back at the Imperial City would have a field day with all that information... I mean," she backtracked, her eyes wide and apologetic, "Only if you wanted to, of course."

Tara's smile grew even larger as she considered the woman's request.

Willow was definitely beautiful, even in the bulky and unflattering plate armor her comrades had forced her to wear. And, she seemed to be very smart. Even if nothing came of the strange look they had shared earlier, perhaps Tara could gain some specialized knowledge in magic in exchange. It could work out well for her either way.

"That sounds like an interesting adventure," Tara murmured. Willow's eyes widened and a large grin stretched her lips, the very tip of her tongue poking out through her teeth. She seemed to vibrate with excitement.

"It will be! I promise!" Willow exclaimed giddily.

The two men turned to them then, stowing their new items in their packs.

"We should head out soon, Wil," Alexander began, sliding his helmet back over his head. "We'll want to make it through Fort Greenwall before daybreak."

Willow snapped to attention then, moving toward her fellow soldiers.

"Of course. Let's get moving."

"What about you, Tara?" William asked as he tied his waist pack firmly closed. "Where are you headed?"

"Riften," Tara and Willow said at the same time, both glancing at each other and blushing. William raised an eyebrow.

"You should travel with us," Alexander said cheerfully. "Being your escort is the least we can do for keeping us from becoming giant stew."

Tara giggled gently.

"Alright," she conceded.

The group made a final circle of the giant's camp, checking for any more useful items, before making their way back to the road and toward Riften.


	4. Riften

A/N: Hello all!

I apologize for the wait between chapters. Real life has been very busy lately. I'm reorganizing the next two chapters a little, so they may be delayed as well.

That's all for update-related news. Back to your regularly (un)scheduled experiment!

* * *

><p>The sun had just peeked over the tall mountains to the east when Tara and the Imperial soldiers entered the gates of Riften. Despite the dark of night, their impromptu group had not run into any other problems after the scuffle at the giant camp. In fact, they had even passed through Fort Greenwall, a known bandit stronghold, without a single issue.<p>

William and Alexander had lead the group, spending most of the journey dramatically reenacting their interaction with the giant before Tara had arrived. Though she was almost positive that they had not actually managed to leap over the 20-foot bonfire in their attempts to escape, she still found their story entertaining. Willow, though still obviously annoyed with the men, laughed along. Once the pair had run out of fantastic exaggerations, they had fallen into silence, taking in the scenery of the moonlit walk.

Willow had chatted animatedly with Tara for the rest of the trip about the different techniques for felling and avoiding giants. Tara was impressed with her ability to walk, talk, and take notes all at once. She told the mage all she knew about giants and the woman scribbled away happily the entire time. It was refreshing to her to meet someone so interested in the things Tara had to say. Willow listened intently and asked very good questions. Tara had caught herself smiling more than once at one of the mage's intuitive comments.

Now, as they wearily made their way toward Riften's inn, the Bee and the Barb, Tara felt a little sad that she and Willow would have to part ways. She had truly enjoyed talking with the red-head. And, if she was being honest with herself, she was not all that put out by her looks either. Tara blushed as that thought crossed her mind, doing her best to hide it behind her hair.

"Well, I call that a successful journey," Alexander said proudly, stretching his arms in front of him.

"I would have liked to have seen a dragon," William muttered and Alexander's eyes widened comically.

"Absolutely not! If we come across across a dragon, we run the other way." William shook his head and started to walk away, Alexander following him pleadingly. "I need you to swear to me right now, William!"

Willow and Tara watched them continue to argue with slight grins on their faces, following them at a much more sedate pace. The men wandered off toward the Riften market as Tara and Willow stopped in front of the inn. They stared at each other silently.

"It was-"

"I had-"

Tara ducked her head and Willow flushed as they spoke at the same time.

"S-sorry," Tara muttered. "You first."

"I was just going to say that I'm glad we ran into you," Willow said, her eyebrows knitting together seriously. Tara glanced up and met her green eyes. "Or, glad that you happened to stumble upon our most certain mortal peril and take it upon your kind soul to keep us from harm."

Tara's lips quirked into a half-smile.

"I think 'running into each other' is a nicer description."

"You're probably right," Willow said, a grin curling her lips. She reached out and rested her hand on Tara's upper arm. "In any case, I'm really glad to have met you."

"I-I'm glad we met, too." Tara didn't know quite when she and Willow had moved so close together, but it was as if the city of Riften had faded away and Willow was the only thing she could see. Not that she was complaining. "And you can write me sometime or something about that expedition."

"Breakfast." Willow muttered, nodding to herself. Tara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the random word.

"Sorry?"

"We, um..." Willow wrung her hands briefly and smiled nervously at Tara. "We could have breakfast tomorrow. Or, you know, lunch, since we were travelling all night. You're probably very tired and it usually takes me a full day and night to recover from all-night anything. Uh, n-not that I take all that many trips in the dead of night because that would be dangerous, like with the giant thing. And anyway, if I spent that much time travelling in total darkness, I'd probably have to rethink my career choices. Or learn a better lighting spell. I would finally have a use for that copy of 'Mage Light' that my father gave me for my graduation from the Arcane University and please stop me before I go any further."

Tara laughed. Willow was beet-red and looked as if she may hyperventilate at any moment. Tara could not blame her; she had never heard someone speak so many words without taking at least a few breaths in between.

And speaking of breaths, Tara's was a little bit taken by the offer of meeting for lunch. She had assumed that Willow would go back to her station with her comrades and write to Tara periodically about things she was interested in learning. After all, they _had_ spent the entire journey from the giant camp speaking of nothing but the anatomy and behavior of giants. It would only be right for Tara to assume that the mage was only interested in an academic relationship, regardless of the spark of attraction that Tara felt toward the other woman.

This lunch offer, however, led Tara to believe that perhaps Willow was interested in more than just an academic friendship. She seemed very excited and a little nervous about meeting with Tara, more so than Tara would have expected from someone who just wanted to talk about plants. Then again, Willow did seem like quite an excitable woman in general.

Tara decided rather quickly to leave it to fate. "Academic friendship" or not, she thought, it would be worth it. Willow was rather charming in a studious kind of way.

"Calm down, Willow," Tara said, laying her hand on Willow's that still rested on her arm. Willow sucked in a deep breath. "I would love to have lunch with you tomorrow."

"You would?" Willow whispered, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Absolutely." Willow's face split into another one of her large excited grins and Tara blushed. She gestured at the door of the inn. "W-we could meet here at noon."

"That would be perfect!"

Tara could not help the gigantic grin on her face as she stared into Willow's green eyes. She had never felt such excitement about something as trivial as lunch before; it was a wonderfully freeing feeling. And the look of pure joy on Willow's face made her chest feel like a perfectly warm fire was burning inside it. She knew that they had just met that morning, but she could not help the strange sensation that they had known each other for far longer.

As they stood, lost in each others' eyes, the door of the Bee and the Barb inn burst open and a couple of well-dressed citizens exited. Tara and Willow sprang apart and the blonde reached for the hilt of her sword as the pair turned toward the men.

"Oy," one began loudly, "That's not the best spot for a morning chat."

"Perhaps moving out of the way of _paying_ customers would be a better idea," the other added.

The pair of men chuckled haughtily at each other before turning around and striding off toward the keep. Tara took a deep breath and turned back to Willow, the tension between them broken.

"So, tomorrow. N-noon?"

"Tomorrow at noon I will be here," Willow replied with a tiny smile.

With that, the redhead turned to find her comrades. She had barely made it two steps before turning back around and throwing her arms around Tara's neck. Tara stiffened in surprise at the embrace, placing her hands awkwardly on the mage's back. Just as quickly as it had happened, Willow pulled back and grinned gleefully at Tara.

"I can't wait!" she exclaimed, turning back around and scurrying off toward the Rifen market square.

Tara was still stiff with shock, gaping after Willow dumbly for several moments after she disappeared into the morning crowd at the market. It was only after another citizen brushed past her with a gruff 'excuse me' that she finally came back to herself.

_If that wasn't a good sign, I don't know what is,_ she thought to herself. With a happy sigh and a smile on her face, Tara turned and wandered into the Bee and the Barb.

As she entered the inn, she was bombarded by the smell of fresh-baked bread and fish stew. The aromas were familiar and comforting and she felt her smile grow as she approached the bar.

"Good morning, Keerava!" she said cheerily to the woman scribbling away in the yellowed ledger laying open on the bar. The woman was taller and leaner than Tara, her limbs thin and lightly muscled. Instead of the smooth, pale skin of most of the locals, however, she had a tough, snake-like covering of light brown and green scales all over her body. In body, she was shaped as any other human of the area, but her head was thinner and elongated with slits for nostrils in place of a nose. Her thin, lizard-like red eyes widened in surprise beneath the small horns that lined her brow and the crown of her head; she was an Argonian.

"Ah, Tara! It's wonderful to see you again," Keerava warmly replied, dropping her quill and moving around the bar to take Tara's hand. "It has been much too long!"

"Is that Tara?" another voice asked from across the room. Tara turned to see another Argonian ascending the stairs from the cellar, his large arms full of wine bottles. His dark green scales sparkled in the light from the sconces on the wall.

Tara smiled warmly at Keerava's husband, Talen-Jei, as he ducked his very tall frame through the doorway and approached excitedly.

Tara had been a very shy child when she was young and lived in the orphanage in Riften. She hardly spoke to the other children and, when she did, they had made fun of her for stuttering over her words. Sometimes, when they became too oppressive, she would sneak out and spend hours wandering the city. She would sometimes spend hours at the Temple of Mara reading books and listening to the priests there speak to visitors and perform their rituals. And then, after night fell, she would head to the Bee and the Barb and sit by the fire as the townspeople enjoyed their meals and drinks.

Though most of the townsfolk wholly ignored her and the other children from the orphanage, Talen-Jei and Keerava had greeted her warmly and asked her if she wanted any milk or bread. Being as shy as she was, she barely managed to shake her head through her deep blush. After few days, the Argonians had stopped asking and just started bringing her bread and warm milk so that she would have something in her stomach when she went back to the orphanage. They lent her books from their own library so that she could read about more than the worship of Mara. When she was old enough, they let her help cook and clean for travellers for a little bit of gold.

Though she had moved to Windhelm in her teenage years, Tara never forgot how kind the Argonians had been to her. They had become like an aunt and uncle to her, which was, truthfully, more family than she had ever had before. She made it a priority to visit Riften just to see them. Thankfully, Ald usually had excess goods that he wanted to sell outside of Windhelm and Tara offered to take them as often as she could. It had, however, been several months since her last visit and she was very glad to see them.

"Hello, Talen-Jei," Tara greeted kindly.

"It is wonderful to see you," Talen-Jei said. He set his wine bottles safely on the bar and pulled Tara into a warm hug. "It has been too long!"

"Yes, Keerava was just reminding me. It has been kind of busy up north."

"I would imagine so with those Stormcloak rumblings," he said as he pulled away, speaking of the Nordic civil war that was brewing in Windhelm. He leaned closer to Tara as he spoke, lowering his voice. "I hope Ald hasn't pulled you in for 'the cause'."

"No," she replied, shaking her head adamantly. "Though, he and Lieske did try to remind me about their 'Stormcloak values' before I left. They made me so angry that I decided to leave last night instead of this morning like I had planned."

Keerava clucked her tongue in distaste and shook her head.

"It is one thing to feel a certain way and another entirely to force it on someone else," she said. Talen-Jei nodded.

"Yes. But enough of this dreary talk!" His eyes crinkled excitedly. "What have you brought with you to sell?"

Tara flushed deeply and ducked her head.

It had occurred to her as soon as she left Chillstream Manor that she had left without the goods that Ald wanted her to sell in Riften. Had she left the next morning as she had planned, he would have had a travelling pack made up by then for her to take. However, since she had stormed out that evening instead, there were no goods prepared for her. She had briefly debated with herself about going back to gather some things together, but had decided to push on for Riften rather than listen to more of Lieske's admonishment.

And, with the excitement of the giant and meeting Willow, Tara had almost forgotten about why she had come to Riften in the first place.

"What is it?" Keerava asked, placing a scaly hand on Tara's shoulder in concern.

"Well, I left in a little bit of a hurry," Tara explained, pushing her hair behind her ears. "There was nothing prepared for me to take. Lieske just made me so angry that I didn't even want to go back and collect anything."

"Oh, Tara," Keerava muttered quietly.

"So, you're taking indefinite time off without permission?" Talen-Jei asked, his suspicions confirmed with Tara's nod. "It sounds like you may not have a job or home to return to."

"Most of my clothes and journals are in my pack and I always take my sword and bow with me," Tara reasoned. "To be honest, I had forgotten about the goods I was supposed to bring until you mentioned it. But, now that I think about it, I figure I might try my luck in a different city for a while. Maybe I can find something that makes me happy."

The Argonians nodded in agreement and Keerava bustled over to the fireplace.

"Well, we can't argue with that," she said. Tara smiled. "Have a seat and let me fetch you some breakfast."

Talen-Jei retrieved his wine bottles and moved behind the bar to stow them away as Tara slid her pack from her shoulders and sank into a chair near the fireplace. She leaned back and sighed. Now that she was somewhere safe and familiar, she felt the weariness from her all-night journey hit her all at once.

"Here you are," Keerava hummed, placing two bowls of oat meal and a pair of tea cups on the table in front of Tara. She slid into the seat across from the blonde and they both dug into their meals.

"Well, Tara," Talen-Jei began, walking back around the bar and to Tara's side, "I have to run by the meadery and place our order for next week. Feel free to take your usual room." He held out an old brass key and Tara took it gratefully.

"Thank you," the blonde replied, smiling warmly at the Argonian. He waved cheerily at the pair of them before leaving the inn.

Tara and Keerava ate in silence for several minutes, the blonde getting lost thinking about a pair of green eyes and an excited grin. She was therefore startled when Keerava spoke.

"I have a question..." the Argonian asked carefully. Tara glanced up at her. "If you forgot to bring the goods to sell and came to Riften anyway, does that mean there was another reason you were coming to visit?"

Tara blinked at Keerava and tried to fight back another smile, thinking of the brief letter she had received at the docks in Windhelm only the morning before.

"You mean besides to visit the two of you?" she tried, her lips quirking up on one side. "I'm just passing through, really."

Keerava's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, no," she said, nearly hissing the words out. Tara hid a laugh behind a sip of tea. "You don't mean to tell me that... that... _Breton girl_ is back in town, do you?"

"She has a name," Tara said pointedly. Keerava merely glared. "I may have received a letter from her yesterday and she may have told me that she wanted to see me."

Keerava groaned and Tara could swear she saw the lizard-woman's normally expressionless face contort in annoyance. She could not hide her laugh that time.

"I don't understand what is so funny," Keerava mumbled, standing to clear their empty bowls and cups from the table. "Especially after what happened the last time she was here."

"It was just _one_ window," Tara chuckled, standing from her own chair and stretching her tired muscles.

"One window and half of the good china," Keerava retorted from behind the bar. "I swear that girl attracts trouble like a flame attracts moths."

"She wants to speak with me about something. I doubt she'll be here long."

Keerava's head popped around the wall and she poked a finger at Tara.

"You just keep her away from my inn!"

"You know I can't promise that," Tara replied. "Thank you for breakfast."

With that, the blonde picked up her travelling pack and headed for the stairs. She climbed them unhurriedly and turned at the top landing to head to her usual room at the end of the hall. It was sparsely decorated with a single bed, wardrobe, nightstand and lamp, and a chair in the corner, though to her it was like a home away from home.

Tara closed the door softly behind her and locked it with the key, dropping her pack, sword, and bow in the space between the bed and the wardrobe. She quickly undid the straps on her travelling cloak and laid it over the foot of the bed before pulling the leather tie out of her hair and letting it flow over her shoulders. As she strode to the bed, she set her leather hair tie and the room key on the nightstand, unclasping her dagger from her belt and sliding it under her pillow. She sat on the bed to untie her boots, stowing them near the nightstand, and stood back up to unfasten her pants. The loose leather slid easily from her legs, the hem of her grey cotton shirt falling to the middle of her thighs.

With another languid stretch, Tara pulled back the wool blanket and slipped into the bed. She reached over and turned the oil lamp on the nightstand to its lowest setting, throwing the windowless room into darkness. She lay back and sank gratefully into the downy softness of the mattress. Before she even realized that she had closed her eyes, she drifted comfortably off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Tara dreamt that she was walking through a beautiful, lush meadow under a clear summer sky.<p>

Somewhere close by, she could hear a stream trickling over rocks and fish splashing around farther away. A gentle breeze blew around her, causing the vibrant green grass to sway to and fro. Flowering trees stood proudly all around, creating little pockets of shade that she could not wait to sit in with a good book.

As Tara blissfully took in all the sights, sounds, and smells around her, she heard another set of soft footsteps approaching from the side. She turned her head and met a pair of eyes as green as the grass around her. She felt herself grin, her eyes crinkling and lips pulling up at the corners as high as they would go.

The green eyes were attached to a face with an excited smile on it; a head flowing with long, fiery red hair; a fair-skinned body clad in a simple blue cotton sun dress. Tara held out her hand.

Tara's heart swelled as the other woman grasped her hand between both of her own, her lips moving to form what Tara recognized as her own name, though she could not hear it. Tara pulled her arm back toward her body, bringing the other woman in with it. When she was close enough, Tara wrapped her free arm around her back and cradled the red-head to her chest.

The sense of completion she felt was absolutely magnificent and joyful.

Suddenly, something like a poke to the inside of her brain made her jerk slightly, her red-headed companion smiling obliviously up at her. An uneasy feeling settled around her. She frowned as the meadow began to fade away.

She woke slowly and languidly, unwilling to leave her perfect dream meadow even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind tried to tell her that something was not quite right. Reluctantly, Tara let the meadow and the beautiful woman fade to blackness.

As she came fully to consciousness, she kept her eyes closed; the slight feeling of unease was still there as it had been while she was waking. Tara focused her mind and listened intently to the inn around her. She could hear the soft sounds of the main bar area as townspeople and travelers alike settled in for meals or drinks. A patron was walking softly up the stairs, likely heading to their room to put down their bags. Her own room was silent except for her calm breathing.

Steeling herself, Tara opened her eyes and sat up in one move, her eyes darting around her dark room. She reached her hand out and turned the oil lamp up, bathing every corner of the room in a soft yellow glow and she gasped.

In the chair in the corner sat a rakish woman with unruly dark hair and a dimpled grin.

"It's about time you woke up. I thought you might've died."


End file.
